


" well she shouldn't have been wearing that " vs " but he's just misunderstood and needs help "

by typervoxilations



Series: poetry [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Feminism, Gen, Poetry, Rant-ish?, rant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:16:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/typervoxilations/pseuds/typervoxilations
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Tell me again ‘not all men’ but also ‘girls, amirite?’ with a smirk and a look like I’m supposed to understand some sort of comedic cue of which my gender was the punchline, rinse and repeat.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	" well she shouldn't have been wearing that " vs " but he's just misunderstood and needs help "

**Author's Note:**

> So I realized I never put this up on AO3 and decided to remedy that!
> 
> I'm not good at doing rants, using facts or examples, but I still wish I could project my anger at the injustice of how women are usually stereotyped as; and I hope it got through.

Tell me again that girls have it easier when there is a girl who is two years older than me,  
with shaky hands and shakier lips, who tells me in whispers about a boy she had trusted,  
but he violated her trust and violated _her_ ,  
and now she can’t look at boys without remembering what had almost happened,  
what came so close to happening.  
Tell me again when I remember a vice iron grip on my wrist burning into my skin and it’s suddenly harder to speak. 

Ask me again why I make faces of horrified disgust when someone tells me they like fifty shades of abuse,  
glorified and pardoned by a flawlessly beautiful face and misplaced pity.  
Ask me again when you’ve spoken to the girl who was struggling to breathe but he pulled the strings tighter until her lungs burst with guilt,  
because if she left him his blood would be on her hands  
but her blood was already on his hands and he didn’t even care.

Tell me again that the monsters in the darkness aren’t real,  
but teach me to walk quickly,  
walk quickly,  
slot the keys between your fingers and your hand in a fist,  
keep a can of pepper spray in your purse and keep your high-heels sharpened and keep your eyes ahead and hurry,  
hurry,  
hurry home.

Ask me again why I write stories with female leads,  
because I can recite the names every Superman and Batman remake  
but where is my Black Widow solo  
and my Lady Thor  
and my Spider Verse Gwen Stacy?  
Where is the Jane Foster in the years without Thor,  
or my Lady Sif and the Warriors Three? 

Tell me again that boys will never like me if I don’t dress nicely,  
but add zeroes to the end of the price tag of the mascara and blame me for not putting in any effort.  
Give away condoms for free like sex is not a choice  
but penalize girls because of a body they cannot control by making them pay to keep their blood and guts off your seats.

Ask me again why I am anger and rage and fury,  
because it’s ‘just a joke, it’s just a joke’ but ‘that’s sexist’ when the joke is on you,   
because we teach our girls fear instead of our boys respect  
and I’m done with waiting for the next man to be the one to touch me inappropriately on a public transport  
and be unable to say a word out of a shame I have no reason to feel. 

Tell me again ‘girls shouldn’t do that’ but also ‘they’re just boys’ and expect me to nod and move along.   
Tell me again ‘not all men’ but also ‘girls, amirite?’ with a smirk and a look like I’m supposed to understand some sort of comedic cue of which my gender was the punchline,  
rinse and repeat.

Tell me again how silly it is to identify as a feminist, and I’ll smile and agree because it shouldn’t be called feminism   
but common sense.


End file.
